I Don't Want to Love Somebody Else
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: Based on the song 'I Don't Want to Love Somebody Else' by Great Big World. Sherlock and Molly break, and essentially, one of them makes the decision for the both of them to stop trying to love somebody else. Trigger Warning: Traumatic Child Death. Please read carefully, or avoid if this is a triggering issue for you. *All credit goes to BBC Sherlock, Sir ACD, and Great Big World*


Soooo, listened to this song, and of course a Sherlolly plot bunny was born. It's sad, not going to lie, but I hope you enjoy it just the same.

**I do not own the BBC, Sherlock, Molly, or any lyrics/songs/rights to the song by Great Big World. I own nothing but a wonderful mind that decided these two should become one. The two things are belong to others. All your base are NOT belong to us. (Wow... I just did that.)**

Anyway, special thanks to ChaosisBlue, for 'encouraging' me to write this story. *Secret Z snap. * You know why.

By the way, this has some **SEVERE** **Trigger Warnings**: If you have ever had to deal with the loss of a child, this story may not be for you. It is deeply scarring, and if you have gone through that, I am so very sorry for your loss. It changes people, no matter the circumstances, and sometimes, the change doesn't always lead people back to each other.

**I Don't Want to Love Somebody Else**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_Oh, I built a world around you  
Oh, you had me in a dream,  
I lived in every word you said  
The stars had aligned  
I thought that I found you  
And I don't wanna love somebody else_

Seeing him this way had ruined everything. Her perception of his brilliance, her clouded vision of his impenetrable mask, it was all thrown to the wayside as she witnessed the consulting detective slowly lose himself to the insanity and guilt once more. She had tried her hardest to be there, tried her best to break those devilish chains from around his neck. It had come to the point where she had to choose between self preservation, or simply allow him to drag her underneath the surface with him. It had come to the point where she had to choose between continuing that wonderful mirage of this man, or forcing herself to accept the events that were unraveling that tapestry of a daydream. Going through the loss that they had, she shouldn't have tried to hold onto such a ridiculous notion. However, she knew what the choice would be, as it was the same choice it had been every single time before. In the end, though, he made the choice for her.

OoOo

"Get. Out." His words bit out with a cold snap that she hadn't heard in years. Molly had been pouring their routine cup of tea that morning, watching him from the corner of her eye. He had been withering the day before, and she knew that his mind would be in a state of fragility on this cool morning. So, when the voice of her cantankerous husband cracked through the cold air in the flat, it shouldn't have startled her. Yet it did just the same. The harsh clicking of his tongue to teeth as he enunciated those words felt like sharp needles stabbing her in the heart.

"Sherlock, love, why don't we just have some tea first? Then, if you still want me to go away for the day, I will. Just enjoy a cuppa with me, please?" Molly spoke from her spot just a few feet away. She took a deep and slow breath, hoping that it would calm him as well. Her fingers hardly shook as she stirred the sugar into his cup. Apparently though, it was just enough for the man to fly off the handle. In a swift motion, he was standing, and flipping the tea tray over from underneath her hands. The ceramic pot dropped, smashing to bits with a tinkering clatter. The tea cups flew farther away, but broke just the same. Hot water and fresh tea stained and seeped into the carpet of 221B's innocent floors, and the only thing remaining in its place was the warm metal spoon, still held firmly in Molly's grasp. She was now shaking more, her eyes wide as she looked up at his maddening glare.

"I said. Get. Out. I don't want tea. I don't want you to go for the day. I just want you to leave." Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he scowled down at the meek woman he had called his wife for the past five years. She had built up quite a reserve against his harsh tongue, so she felt a small amount of pride that the tears didn't fall instantly.

"Sherlock, it's just a bad day, okay? We can...we can just get through it. Tomorrow will be...yea...tomorrow-" Molly had recited words like these on the worst of days for the past two years. She had finally convinced herself of their healing powers, and was slowly on the mend. It was much harder to trick the most brilliant mind she had come to know.

"No, Molly. Tomorrow won't get better. Tomorrow never gets 'better', as you so adamantly put it. It only gets worse. So worse, in fact, that I cannot stand to hear you attempt to utter those nonsensical fairy tales any longer. I can barely stand to look at you anymore, let alone listen to you try to convince the both of us that things are well off. So just do us both a favour, and go away. I have no further need for this trivial game of playing 'house'. Get. Out." He had cut her to the quick. She felt absolutely sick to her empty stomach, the hollowness only serving to remind her of old battles fought with the wicked streak of Sherlock's tongue. A solitary tear slid from her eye, gliding its way down the plains of her cheek and to the corner of her lips. She turned, without saying a word, and collected her coat. She slid her shoes on, and grabbed her purse with the other free hand. By the time the door to the flat was opened, more tears had joined the first, and she hesitated taking another step, knowing that her choice was still the same as it had been every time before.

"You know, Sherlock, I've never blamed you. Not once. I wish you wouldn't either." With that, she stepped through the door, leaving both it, and the conversation open for him to respond.

OoOo_  
_

_Oh, we left it all unspoken  
Oh, we buried it alive  
And now it's screaming in my head  
Oh, I shouldn't go on hoping  
Oh, that you will change your mind  
And one day we could start again  
Well I don't care if loneliness kills me  
I don't wanna love somebody else _

It was the first thing that either of them had mentioned of it in the past two years, and of course it had been Molly to do it. He listened for the front door to close, and immediately made his way to the window to watch her go. It had taken everything in him not to rush after her immediately. He had forced himself not to race down those stairs and pull her tightly to his chest, begging for her forgiveness for his cruelty. He hadn't been entirely untruthful in his vitriol; he really couldn't stand to look at her. The sadness that kept in the backdrop of her eyes made her seem dead to the rest of an otherwise vibrant and very much alive world. She had insisted day in and day out that things would get better, and since that terrible day, they had only managed to fall away from what any normal person would define as 'good'. As the rain outside began to dump onto the streets, and the small woman waiting for a cab, or for him to retrieve her, Sherlock's mind flew back to the day that they stopped being alive.

OoOo

"_It's a simple choice, Mr. Holmes. Either you let me escape, and call off your big brother and that stupid dog, Lestrade, or your lovely wife here, as well as your soon-to-be bundle of joy, gets one through the ears." The thief had been an idiot, really. He had gone after a wealthy tycoon, in broad daylight, directly in front of New Scotland Yard. Sherlock and Molly were just exiting the building, when the pathologist was snatched away from her detective, and immediately pulled against the crook's chest. She was a human shield, as well as a hostage, given the gun pointing at the side of her head. Her eyes locked with his, and she instantly calmed, knowing he would find a way out of this. While she couldn't see it, Sherlock had a clear sight of the officer who was sneaking behind the two, readying his arms to tackle and disarm the man who was holding Molly at gunpoint. It had been a quick blur, one moment, she was there, the next, she was backing away as the man thrashed about wildly, attempting to free himself of the officer's hold. Had she not turned to ensure she was out of danger, she would have been precisely that. However, she turned, just in time to receive the rogue bullet that had fired from the gun of the thief. It hit her, and she immediately cried out in pain, as well as an overwhelming sense of panic. _

_Sherlock was at her side in an instant, lowering her to the ground and cradling the bump of her bleeding belly. She moaned out, her eyes frightened and wide as they begged the same question without saying a word. Molly had passed out from the blood loss and pain shortly after, and fortunately, it wasn't long before the paramedics were arriving to whisk her away and save her life._

_Just her life, though._

_The bullet had spiraled through her womb, cutting the growing life inside entirely too short. Molly had barely made it, and after learning the news of her loss, she hadn't been sure she wanted to go on living at all. The whole thing was more than she could take, and all the while, Sherlock was unable to do, say, or find any way to make things 'better'. Eventually, he had stopped trying to make things 'better', knowing that his attempts were all for naught. _

_They had fought more and more, neither one discussing the core of the issue; neither one wanting to open up the gaping wound in their now empty and hollow lives. _

_Sherlock kept waiting for the world to reset, for their lives to somehow restart and improve. They had tried again, and after the fifth unsuccessful time, gave up in the endeavor. They slowly drifted apart, until eventually the fighting stopped all together, and they barely spoke._

_Then one day, he decided he had found the only bearable solution to her pain._

OoOo

"Just go, Molly. Get into the car and go." He whispered to the girl downstairs, as he watched her hand shakily reach for the door's handle to the parked cab, before it would recoil slightly.

"Please, please, please."

Sherlock let out a long sigh, one of both agony and reliefas he watched her finally climb into the cab and drive away.

OoOo

_Oh, I thought that I could change you  
Oh, I thought that we would be the greatest story that I tell  
I know that it's time to tell you it's over  
But I don't wanna love somebody else_

She sat in the back of the taxi, her eyes red and puffy, filled with fresh and stale tears alike. She ignored the concerned glances from the cabbie, and simply thought back to the man she once shared a life with. He had been brilliant. He had been an impenetrable force, a wall strong enough to hold them all and keep them from harm. The consulting detective she was proud to claim as 'husband' would always be there.

Going through the loss that they had, she shouldn't have tried to hold onto such ridiculous notions. Given the opportunity, given the decision to choose between keeping herself safe and sane, or letting him drag her into the undertow, she knew what the choice would be. Every single time. However, that choice was made for him, for _her_ Sherlock.

However, _he_ wasn't the man that the woman _she _had become could love.

And she couldn't love somebody else.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Well, there's that. Um, again, so sorry if that triggered anything for anyone. I honestly was not expecting this story to take that turn, but it did for some reason, so perhaps there is a reason why. Anyway, leave me a note and tell me what you thought. I thank you all so much for reading, and I hope that you will all stick around for more stories. Thank you, my dears. Bye for now!


End file.
